


Sweet Dreams

by beingbaz



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Nightmares, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingbaz/pseuds/beingbaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They dream about each other, although neither knows why nor how. Neither likes it either.</p><p>Just a ficlet, written because I could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All copyrights belong to their respective owners. I make no money from this, and merely wrote it for fun. Originally written in 2003.

The darkness was everywhere. It clogged Rogue’s throat, and blinded her eyes as she ran through the fog. She didn’t know where to go, or what direction she should take. The girl didn’t even know where the hell she was. All she knew was that she had to run from something harmful that was right behind her, something she could tell was gaining on her. Rogue ran faster, and faster through the muggy darkness, calling out for someone, anyone, to somehow help her.

And suddenly, the ground was gone, and she found herself falling. Rogue was falling farther and faster through that same foggy darkness, until she landed in the arms of a beautiful dark-haired woman with piercing eyes, and a pretty mouth. Then, pure light was all around the two, and Rogue knew the threatening presence was no more.

Lady Deathstrike put Rogue down. The girl stood, looking up at the other woman, and nearly brought an uncovered hand to Lady Deathstrike’s face. Then, remembering, Rogue lowered her arm.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Rogue said, looking at the woman with hunger in her eyes.

Lady Deathstrike put her own hand to Rogue’s cheek, holding her there even when Rogue tried to back away. It was several seconds before Rogue noticed that nothing was happening to the other woman, that Lady Deathstrike wasn’t in pain.

Rogue looked at the beautiful woman with awed eyes. “How ... ?” she whispered.

“Marie,” the other woman murmured, lowering her head to Rogue’s, and gently brushing her lips against the girl’s. And in moments, the two were on the ground, tongues mating, their limbs tangled, hands touching, all while bathed in this pure, brilliant white light.

- 

Rogue woke abruptly, heavily panting in her bed, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and her treacherous loins tingling. She started cursing herself. _That’s the third dream I’ve had about Lady Deathstrike in this week alone! What the hell is going on?_ she thought.

“Fuck,” Rogue said, running a hand through the silver of her hair absently. She then ran a hand over the brown of her hair to the base of her skull and began massaging. If this kept up, she’d never get any sleep, and she’d be pissier than Logan. And one person like him was enough for any group of people.

Rogue turned around and punched her pillow before lowering her head back down, closing her eyes, and wishing fervently for sleep, not knowing that it would take its own time in coming.

-

Across a great distance, in a secret place, another woman was cursing herself for unexplained dreams that left her sweating, gasping, and aching in the middle of the night. _Why do I keep dreaming about that little chit, that Rogue girl? _the woman thought, watching the adamantium claw come out of her forefinger as she walked into her bathroom, flicked on the light, and stood in front of the mirror above her sink.__

In punishment for her betraying mind, the woman dug deep into her right arm with the claw, hissing at the beautiful pain it caused, and watching the blood begin to flow. Just as quickly, she watched her skin heal itself, felt the veins and muscle that had been sliced beneath it heal as well. The woman repeated this several times before she found herself calm enough to go back to sleep. She retracted the claw, wiped the blood off her arm with a towel, and rinsed out the sink.

Lady Deathstrike shut off the bathroom light, walked back into her room, and sat down on the soft bed with a deep sigh. Then the woman lay down, pulling satin sheets to her neck. She closed her piercing eyes against the darkness, and, seeing Rogue’s image behind her closed lids, wished for no more dreams before promptly falling back asleep.


End file.
